Page 31 of A Much Maligned Miss

“I could perhaps persuade him to give you a trial period.”

“Do you really think so?” She clasped her hands together. She did that sometimes, he had noticed. He rather thought it denoted hopefulness.

“I do. My uncle and I have been…estranged let us say, for some ten months now. He seeks rapprochement. I am not averse to the idea. He wants to introduce me to his new bride, no doubt for us to present a reconciled family front to polite society. I want him to employ you as a secretary. It’s a fair trade-off.”

“Is it?” she asked, looking a little doubtful.

“Of course. He forgives me for not marrying Miss Blessing, and I forgive him for plotting to oust me as his heir.”

“Families are complicated things,” she murmured. “What is he like? Oh, not that I am in any position to refuse him as an employer,” she said hastily. “I was just curious. Is he like you?”

Gervaise’s eyebrows shot up. “He is not,” he answered dryly. “Uncle enjoys his meals, he employs the finest of French chefs, he relishes his clarets and his burgundies. He does not enjoy his bouts of gout. He likes to sally forth to soirées with duchesses and reminisce about the good old days. He likes to stroll along to his club and lament the fact the country has gone to the dogs. Do you get the general impression?”

“I do.”

“Not exactly scintillating society but he is tolerable in the main.”

“And he would not think a man better suited for the role of his secretary?” Caroline asked, looking faintly anxious.

“He probably would but he is also quite lazy and hates putting himself out in any way. Your turning up would be quite providential and I’m sure you will soon set about making yourself quietly indispensable.”

Again, she looked doubtful, though she nodded all the same. “And just how would you introduce me to this uncle of yours?” she asked hesitantly.

Gervaise shrugged. “I would say you are a close, personal friend of Viscountess Faris and a neighbor of hers in the country. Uncle is quite a snob. He likes to collect titles among his acquaintance.”

“He can’t be that much of a snob if one of his closest friends is a purveyor of bottled fruits,” Caroline pointed out.

He smirked. “Ah, but money trumps all. Surely you know that, my dear Caroline.”

Her expression turned immediately somber. “Yes, sadly. I’ve been wondering how I am to find lodgings once I reach London. I have no money, you know.”

“Yes, I am aware. I think it might be best if I take you along with me to Melbury Square as soon as we reach London.”

“Melbury Square?”

“My uncle’s house.”

She brightened. “You mean to secure the position for me up front?”

“I think that might be best. Then we can set about finding you an inexpensive hotel for a few nights until we have everything set in place.”

“You would really do that for me, my lord?” she asked gratefully.

“I would.” Even he sounded mildly surprised about the fact.

They reached Reading around seven o’clock and shortly after were set down at The Royal Oak, where they were shown up to their rooms. Gervaise descended again shortly after to set the kittens down in the garden and smoke while they went about their business.

He would have to contact Carstairs as soon as they reached London. He knew the building had nearly been completed for their new business venture but the last letter he had received from him had been practically indecipherable. It seemed they had acquired a third business partner Gervaise did not know about, to help with the escalating costs.

Presumably someone with deep pockets, Gervaise surmised. He just hoped to God it was someone at least fairly steady. The honorable Ralph Carstairs might be the fourth son of Baron Fenby, but he had some damn rackety friends and picked up all sorts of acquaintance about town.

Dismissing Ralph from his thoughts, he retrieved the kittens and made his way back into The Royal Oak. No sooner had he sought out the parlor and greeted Caroline than Canon Petrie was ushered in to join them. Gervaise frowned while the elderly clergyman looked rather startled at the sight of them both.

“Oh, er, I had not realized…that is, I thought…” He turned rather helplessly to the landlord.

“Are you not all dining together?” that stout individual asked. “Only I thought you were.”

“That is fine,” Gervaise said, relenting when he caught sight of the pleading look in Caroline’s eye. “We are all old friends by this point.” In truth, he could have wished the old man to the devil, but he was harmless enough, just damnably in the way.